


alright in the evening (baby with you)

by breezered



Series: there she goes (a little heartache) [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, a little moment for just the two of them, amberprice, just the two of them in love, post Before the Storm, pre Life is Strange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 13:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13214394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breezered/pseuds/breezered
Summary: She’s leaning against the guardrail, framed by dim moonlight and slowly falling snow. Wind blows her hair around her face gently, and it takes your breath away all over again.





	alright in the evening (baby with you)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Alright in the Morning' by The Paddingtons.

You’re eternally thankful Rachel didn’t manage to drag you into Blackwell’s winter performance of _Electra_. It helps that you aren’t a student anymore, just the drug-dealing drop-out that hangs around the school’s golden girl. Instead, she buys you a ticket and sits you in the back of the theatre with a squeeze to your shoulder and a wink. 

“I’ll see you after, okay?” She says, and you nod.

“Break a leg,” you say as she walks away. She turns and gives you a smile, the smile that makes every part of you melt and your heart race. 

Unsurprisingly, Rachel Amber is the best Electra that Blackwell has ever seen. The irony of that isn’t lost on you one bit; the vengeance, the fucked up family situation even if she isn’t completely aware of it. It’s obvious in her acting, the draw that she takes from personal experiences and pours into her performance. It hurts you, not a lot, but enough that you slip out during the applause to light up a smoke and take a few deep breaths. 

The smoke trickles through your lips and out your nostrils into the cold air. It hangs heavy before dissipating, and you wish for a warmer coat. It’s snowing, flakes falling light and sparse. It’s the type of snow that will probably melt by morning, or be melted by cars on the road and feet on sidewalks. Temporary. 

You wait for Rachel in your truck, feet kicked up on the dashboard and another smoke held between your fingers. Fingerless gloves aren’t warm, but at least they let you keep your palms warm and help for quick lighting. You crank the heat and the radio, the music loud enough to drown out the worrisome rattle of your shitty heating system. You smoke more in the winter, clinging desperately to any source of heat you can find. 

It’s almost a half hour until Rachel finally emerges, glowing with the aftermath of another successful performance. Her face is freshly wiped of makeup, and she’s got a sweater on that looks suspiciously like yours. 

“Bravo!” You cheer as she shuts the door behind her. “A truly _electrifying_ performance, Miss Amber.” She laughs and slugs you in the arm. You grab her wrist and pull her under your arm, tucking her into your side. 

Rachel plucks the cigarette from your fingers and takes a drag. “Did you like my costume? I convinced Keaton to give me full creative control over it, and I think it really turned out perfectly.” Humming an agreement, you take your smoke back and stick it between your lips. 

“Where to, milady?” 

Rachel directs you to the lighthouse, and you really wish she wasn’t always so full of boundless energy after a show. You trudge up behind her as she basically prances up to the lighthouse, your feet starting to freeze in your Chucks. 

“Rachel, c’mon,” you call after her, “it’s fucking freezing. Can’t we just go somewhere warm and like, inside?” 

“Stop being so lame,” she yells over her shoulder, hopping up on a small rock and balancing on it. She beckons you over with her finger and you comply with a sigh. 

“I’m not lame, you’re just crazy.” She drapes her arms over your shoulders and pulls you in. You keep your best unimpressed face on, but then she’s leaning down and kissing you. You melt into it, like you always do, and her fingers play with the ends of your hair. 

“Be crazy with me, Chloe Price,” she says against your lips. You sigh and nod, and Rachel smiles. She slides her hands down your arms and laces her fingers with yours. “Come on, beautiful.” 

It makes you blush and you hide it by rolling your eyes. She leads you up the path to the familiar bench. You’ve sat here with her countless times, talked about countless different things. You let her sit you down and drape her legs over your lap, your hands resting on her knees. 

The moon is bright from behind the clouds, and enough of its light spills onto Rachel’s face, highlighting angles and casting hollows into darkness. 

She’s beautiful.

“Opening night is always the best show,” Rachel is saying, and you pull yourself out of your staring to listen. “It’s rough, and raw. It lacks all the polish of closing night but I think that’s the beauty of it, you know?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, and she smiles. 

“Nothing will ever top our _Tempest_ ,” she says, leaning over to brush some hair from your eyes. 

“I think any performance of any other play will always beat our _Tempest_ in terms of production value,” you say, looking away from the intensity of her eyes. 

“But not in raw, emotional texture,” Rachel says. “We’ve got something special.” 

Your heart skips a beat and you nod. “Hella.” 

“Oh my god,” she laughs, “I _so_ regret ever teaching you that.” She smacks your arm and shuffles closer. 

“You _so_ do not,” you tease back, “you think I’m cute. Even though I’m actually really badass and the farthest thing from cute ever.” 

Rachel shakes her head, still laughing as you try and give her a fierce look, drawing your eyebrows together and baring your teeth. “Very badass.” She holds your chin in her hand and kisses you quick and soft. “Easily tamed, however.” 

You gasp and grab her around the waist, pulling her further into your lap. “How dare you,” you say as she squeals with laughter, “I am basically made of fear.” Rachel keeps laughing, and soon you’re laughing too, loud in the quiet of the night. You pinch her waist, tickling her and eliciting higher-pitched laughter from her. 

“I’m- oh my god, Chlo, please, I’m gonna-goanna pee!” She squeaks through her laughter. Your hands fall away and you collapse into belly laughs, coughing as your breath catches in your throat. 

“I’ve got to quit smoking,” you say through your coughing. Rachel sits you back up and rubs your back. 

“You’re not going to quit smoking,” she says, still laughing a little. 

“I could,” you say, “one day.” You won’t. 

Rachel leans forward and presses your foreheads together. “I’d help you do it, you know.” 

“I know.” 

You kiss her, sucking on her bottom lip for a moment before she’s slipping her tongue into your mouth. It’s heavy and warm, and she runs the tip of it along the back of your teeth. 

“Come on,” she says when she pulls away, “I have an idea.” 

Rachel’s ideas are fun, but you’re cold and tired. “Rachel, c’mon, let’s just go home and get warm.” 

“I’m not tired,” she says, standing and pulling you up. “Do you still know how to pick locks?” 

You raise your eyebrows at that. “It’s not something you really forget,” you say cautiously, “but why am I picking locks?” Rachel pulls you over to the lighthouse door and leans up against it. 

“Work your magic, baby,” she says with a wink. You roll your eyes. 

“Rachel, I don’t have anything to pick it with,” you say. She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a handful of pins. 

“Wardrobe won’t miss them.” 

You take them and sort through until you find the pins closest to what you need. It takes you a few minutes, Rachel playfully heckling you the whole time, but eventually the lock pops and you push the door open with a dramatic sweep. Rachel pats your cheek as she twirls by you and you follow behind her. She pulls out her phone and lets the light from the screen illuminate the room in front of her. 

“Follow me,” she says, and you do. You always do. You probably always will, if you’re honest with yourself. “Do you have your marker?” 

“Always,” you answer. 

“You’re such a boy scout,” she laughs. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You’re laughing too. Rachel leads you to the stairs and turns to face you, a step higher than you. She’s equal height with you now, and it’s easy to get lost in her eyes. 

“You’re always prepared,” she says with an easy smile and shrug. You laugh and poke the tip of her nose. 

“Pretty sure boy scouts aren’t supposed to be prepared for breaking and entering and vandalism,” you say. 

“How would you know, you weren’t a boy scout,” Rachel says, leaving a kiss on your forehead before she’s racing up the stairs. “Last one to the top has to kiss Nathan Prescott!” 

“I’d rather die!” You holler after her, and you pick up your pace. 

She wins, of course. She always wins. 

“There’s no way I’m kissing Nathan Prescott,” you say, huffing and puffing when you catch up to her at the top of the lighthouse. 

She’s leaning against the guardrail, framed by dim moonlight and slowly falling snow. Wind blows her hair around her face gently, and it takes your breath away all over again. 

“Well, you’ll have to kiss someone,” she says with a coy smile. You grin and walk over to her, pinning her against the guardrail between your arms. You duck your head and fit your lips to hers, deep and slow. The wind is cold on your cheeks and hands, but her mouth is warm and her hands are hot where they slide under the front of your sweatshirt and press against your stomach. She sucks your tongue and you feel your knees buckle. 

“Woah there, stud,” she mumbles, and you smile into the next kiss. You press your body against hers. Her hands fidget until her fingers are tucked into the waistband of your jeans. 

“We could be doing this somewhere a lot warmer,” you say, and Rachel nips your bottom lip. 

“It’s called an adventure,” she says. “Doing something new.” She kisses you again, lips parted and the smallest whine of pleasure slipping from her mouth. 

It’s one of those slow-motion camera pan moments, you think as she tugs you impossible closer. The type where the camera would spin around you and there would be colourful streaks of light around you. It’s the type of kiss that lifts you, that makes you feel invincible. 

Rachel finally pulls back, and you’re left trying to remember your first name. She runs her thumb over your bottom lip. “You’re distracting me.” 

You smile, small and dumbstruck. “I like distracting you.” Rachel pulls her hands away from you and she lifts your arm, slipping under it and leading you over to the glass surrounding the lightbulb. 

“Marker?” You grab it from your back pocket and hold it out for her to take. She takes it, her fingers holding it delicately as she uncaps it. Leaning over the guardrail, she starts drawing something. You lean up beside her and take the cigarette from behind your ear, sticking it between your lips and lighting it. 

“There,” she says after a minute, and you turn to look at her work. 

“I never pegged you for such a sap,” you say, bumping her with your hip. 

“Shut up,” she says with a smile, “I thought it was romantic.” 

You tilt your head and look at at the heart with your and her initials in it. “I think the arrow was a where you went over the edge,” you tease her, “less is more, Rach.” 

She slaps your stomach with the back of her hand. “I’d be careful if I were you, Price. This is a tall lighthouse, and there’s no one around to hear you scream.” 

You laugh and wrap your arms around her from behind, tucking your chin into the crook of her neck. You hold the cigarette up to her lips. “It is kinda romantic,” you say, “us on the light, if they ever fix it. You and me, all lit up.” 

“Appropriate,” she says, smoke falling from her lips. “I’m going to ask my dad about getting it working again.” You hum and kiss her jaw, tightening your arms around her. 

“Hey, Rach?”

“What, babe?” 

“I, uh, I love you.” 

Rachel turns her head to kiss whatever part of your face she can reach, which ends up being your eye. “I love you too, you dork.” You smile into her neck and hope she can’t feel the heat in your cheeks. “It’s cute how you get all nervous every time you say it, though.” 

“Fuck you,” you mumble, and she laughs. 

“Later,” she says, and you feel yourself blush even more. 

“Can we go home now, then?” You slide your hand that isn’t holding the cigarette under her sweater and her shirt, pressing your freezing fingers to her bare skin. She jumps at the contact.

“Jesus, Chloe,” she scolds you with a laugh. “Fine, okay, let’s go home and get you warmed up.” You grin and press messy kisses to her neck. She squeaks and squirms out of your arms. 

“You’re my angel,” you say, ashing your cigarette and taking a long pull. “Saving me from certain death-by-freezing.” Rachel smiles from the top of the stairs and you swear you see beautiful swirls of snow around her, framing her like the most beautiful painting you’ve ever seen. 

You blink and the swirls are gone, replaced by her hand being held out to you. 

“Let’s go, loverboy,” she says, and you rolls your eyes. You take her hand anyways and let yourself be pulled along again, down the stairs and through the woods until you’re back sitting in your truck, the night stretching endlessly out in front of you. 

“Where to?”

Rachel kisses your cheek. “Anywhere with you.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write them something happy, no matter how we know it ends up. I love their dynamic and just want to keep on exploring it, so that's what I'm going to do. Thanks for reading, and happy new year! :)


End file.
